


George's Boi

by rrueplumet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Butch - Freeform, Butch/Butch, F/F, Queer Daddy Kink, Stone Butch, Strap-Ons, Strap-on blow job, gender shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 05:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrueplumet/pseuds/rrueplumet
Summary: George was my friend.  It took me a while to realize my feelings were more than that.





	George's Boi

**Author's Note:**

> whew. here's a heaping of gender shenanigans i wrote at the beginning of some confused explorations. rest assured my shenanigans have only grown more ridiculous. but george is dearer to me than i can articulate outside of fiction, as is our boi narrator. 
> 
> warnings, aforementioned butch shenanigans. strap-ons as a prominent feature of sex and often treated like real extensions of the respective wearer. one character is a stone butch, one is definitely not. 
> 
> passing moments of 'daddy' kink but, like, the ol' school gay stuff. no straight girls in hello kitty underwear pretending to be toddlers. 
> 
> just lots of butch lovin' and mutual affection.

 

 

George was an old school butch, the kind of old fashioned you never had to describe.   Believe me, you always knew which one was George the second she walked in the room. 

I guess you could call George my butch mentor.   But before anything else, she really was a friend and a good one at that.  She never let me walk out looking stupid.   She taught me the swagger and the talk, the right way to pack - _do you dress to the right or left and do you even know what that means_ \- the way a butch charms, the kind of gallantry and tenderness that forms the foundation of what can be hard or softer still... 

George was a hard butch, a bonafide bulldyke.   She was good for a laugh, sure, and liked to slap me around with a guffaw and _thud_ to the backside, but she could also be tough as steel.  She was a little world-wearied.   It was in the roughness of her hands and her stiff posture, and sometimes in her biting charm and quirked brow.  

But she was also the first to buzz my hair and help me find a sense of style.  (A sense of style that wasn’t ‘dumpster chic’ at least.)   She was patient and informative when I asked stupid questions.   And she whispered luck in my ear and slapped me on the back before sending me up to a woman for the first time.

And, of course, George was how I lost my virginity. 

It was butch stuff, you know?  I lived in a camper and she was there before my date, helping me get ready.   She also had plans that night and stopped over on her way, her motorcycle parked in the dusty gravel outside my door.   I wasn't sure about her plans; they were a little vague and I was more preoccupied with my date.   I just knew her plans involved a butch's night at a bar, one so rough-and-tumble even I hadn't been there yet. 

_Not the place for ladies or bois,_ she once teased.  _Working butches only._  

You'd think that bar was in Mordor or something, but I took her at her word. 

"Do I look okay?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair.  It had gotten a little longer on top.

She ruffled the fluff. 

"Not bad," she said, "Could look worse." 

I shouldered her. 

"Shut up," I replied.  "Can't you pay me a compliment once in a while?"

"Aww..."  She grabbed me in a headlock and really messed up my hair.  "You're super pretty, honey, that what you wanna hear?"

"Bastard - " I grunted, but there was no wrestling George.   She'd only let me go if she wanted. 

She laughed, freeing me, then fixed my hair again. 

"You're a good kid," she said, "You remember what I taught you?  Gonna treat your girl right?"

"Yessir."

"Be a good guy.  You go acting like a fool and you'll get what you deserve."

"I know." 

"Yeah, you know."  She got me in another headlock, but not so rough.  It seemed like a bid to pull me in closer.  She smelled like asphalt and I fought sucking in a breath.   I didn't wanna get too comfortable or I might have changed my mind about the whole thing - tried to convince her to just hang out, have a beer, and watch some dumb movie. 

I pulled away instead, and she slapped my rear with a hard clap. 

"Jesus, man!"  I shoved at her.

She just laughed. 

"Damn, that ass," she said.  "Can't blame me.  Shame you're not prettier, huh?  Tsk, what a waste."

"Shuddup, geez."  I turned away to lace up my boots, hoping if my head was ducked down she wouldn't see my big stupid blush.   And it was a hot one, starting in my toes and exploding upward.   I always blushed all over, unfortunately, and could feel it on my belly as much as my cheeks. 

"You packing?" she asked, after clearing her throat, "Hard tonight?"

I nodded, head still down. 

"Which one?" she asked.

"My usual," I answered.

"What? That pigsticker?  What'cha gonna do with that, tickle her?  No, no, no, it’s your first and you’re doing it right.  Get out the other one I got you."

"Aw, George, I'm ready to go - "

"You go pulling something like that out on a date and no woman in the country will look twice at you ever again."  She went into my small bed area, sitting on the mattress crammed in the tight space to rifle through my short dresser.   "And they'll all go blaming me.  George's boi, what a shame - "

Laces done up, I went over to her.   I crossed my arms the way she did when she was feeling all indignant.  I hoped my blush had simmered, though I could still feel it across my belly.  

She stood again, having to duck just a little so as to not hit her head in my trailer. 

"Unzip," she said, holding a cock both thicker and longer than my usual.  I was never sure how to pack something like that. 

But I unbuckled and unzipped, then fished around in my boxers for my strap.   I slipped out my usual packer and took the one she held.   She went to put mine away while I awkwardly shoved the stupid monster down my pants and tried to zip up again.

"Jesus," she said, quirking that brow.  "Are you going for the obvious stiffy look?"

"Obviously not, smart ass."

"You might get her pregnant with a rubber baby if you keep that thing sticking out like that."

"George, I'm gonna club you to death with it if you don't help me out - "

She laughed at that, a laugh so big it was almost a roar.  She hit her head on the ceiling and ducked down, still laughing. 

"All right, all right, turn that way," she said, grabbing my hips and flipping me around. 

I kept my balance, barely, and lifted my arms out of her way.   I looked down while she unzipped me, her big rough hands reaching into my pants to adjust me.   I swallowed and tried to keep quiet, looking at her hands on my cock.  I jumped a little when she shoved down my jeans and boxers, just for better access.  My bare ass brushed her belt buckle and I was thankful to every god that my dick was not real.  It would have jumped right out of her hand. 

Throat tight, clit stiff, muscles clenched, I stood there while she fixed me up.   She yanked up my clothes again, helped me zip and buckle up, then turned me around to look at her handiwork.   She kept both hands on my shoulders. 

"Right then," she said, squeezing.  "Can't find anything else that needs me." 

 She sounded thoughtful, her eyes a little glazed, but when I put my hand over hers she snapped to attention.  With one final clap on the shoulders, she pulled away. 

"You better get going," she said, "Can't keep a lady waiting." 

We parted ways, her on her bike and me in my ratty little car. 

There wasn't a lot to say about the date.   I went out with a woman named Cindy.  A real fem, she knew her way around the city dyke scene.   She had her pick of the butches so I was flattered she ever gave me the time of the day.  

Cindy was a class act and made my heart pound just by virtue of being her.  But that big hot blush never returned.  

We went cruising down a quiet street after dinner, the street lights rolling over us to offer the occasional glance at one another in the dark car.  It was then I think we both realized something about me. 

Yeah, sure, I was always butch, even before I knew the word.   I was a tomboy and a roughhouse and I liked girls like Cindy.  I really did.  Loving them let me love the girly things I otherwise hated.   They made it all rich and beautiful again.  

But I didn't like it on me.   And for all that I only liked the girls... I didn't like it _that way_.  And her perfume was sweet but not the kind of smell I wanted to breathe in deep.  

I liked the asphalt and desert a little too much. 

It was something primal.   I couldn't control it.   I figured no one could control something like that. 

"I'm sorry, Cind," I said after we chatted at a stoplight and shared a laugh.  

She was all aglow in the red, smiling. 

"I'm not," she said, "I think you're adorable.  Say… you want some tips?" 

All right.  _Then_ she made me blush.

I dropped Cindy off at her place and she kissed my cheek good-bye.  Then I went driving through town.  

I knew where that bar was, though I had never been there.   I wasn't sure if I should go alone.  What if George wasn't even there?   I didn't wanna get caught in a part of town I didn't know.  

Eventually I reasoned with myself:

I wasn't scared of downtown.  I wasn’t scared to go alone.   I wasn’t scared of George not being there.  

I was scared George would be exactly where she said she was, and I was gonna have to explain why I was there.  And I didn't know if I could that.   If I even should.  

She was always understanding, sure.  And I doubted I was the first butch to ever swing for my own.  But I also knew it was rare, and she never talked about it except as a joke, and maybe this whole thing would turn into just that: a joke.   Maybe she'd laugh.  I just hoped I wouldn't cry.  That was the last thing I needed. 

On my drive there, I briefly considered if I was femme and fooling myself.  That happened sometimes didn't it?   Then my lousy old car broke down and couldn't get it going, and I couldn't get a tow out there at that hour, so I started walking downtown on my own.   And I felt good in my body, the way I should be, strolling under lamplight.   And I knew, nah.  I was still butch.  Just a little funny in the head.  But people said that anyway. 

I wound up catching a late bus west, then walked the last bit to the bar.  

It didn't have a sign or name or any proper marker.  Just a red square above the door.  

I didn't know if I was supposed to knock or go right in, so I loitered out front for a minute.   Then a couple punk butches came strolling out for a smoke.  They glanced at me briefly and kept on their way, but the door hung open so I darted inside. 

I was immediately sweltering, though a bit of sweat had dotted my hairline for a while.   I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and tried to keep my head down and not draw attention.   I shuffled along the far wall, looking through the smoke and peering around tables packed full of hard looking worker women.  They were so butch, it made me feel like the ‘boi’ George always joked I was.  

"You looking for something, kid?" A gruff voice sounded off.   I looked up at a tattooed butch in a muscle-tee, an equally formidable woman beside her. 

Seeing so many butches had me a little off-kilter, never mind what I was here to do.  So I stammered on a response when her friend said, "You're acting kinda shifty."

I forgave their inquisition and subsequent intimidation of me.   It made sense.  This was a safe space and an outsider wandering in could mean big trouble for them.   They were just being careful.  Butches protected their people like that.

So they started to corner me when my own protective butch appeared out of nowhere, a familiar rough hand yanking on the collar of my leather jacket. 

"The fuck are you doing here, kid?" George asked, dragging me out of the line of fire.   She cast a nod to the other butches who nodded back.  They left us alone. 

I shrugged off George's hand, feeling embarrassed, and also feeling the swift return of that heady blush.  

"It's nothing," I said without thinking, "I'm just - "

I trailed off, looking around.  A few people were looking our way.

"What happened to your date?"  George asked, not caring to look at them.

I gazed up at her and said nothing.  George was always pretty sharp and socially intuitive.  Or maybe I just had a crappy poker face.  Whatever the case, she seemed to read at least half my life story in that split second glance.  

“Shit,” she said.  An understatement. 

I opened my mouth and God only knew what I was gonna say, but she grabbed me by the scruff and jerked me towards a side door.   “Out.  Now,” she said, and I went like an obedient puppy.

We stumbled down the steps into an alley.  Rather _I_ stumbled and she sauntered behind me.

“Are you playing at something?” she asked, and sounded righteously pissed. 

The door fell closed behind us.  The alley was lit by a single gold-coloured lamp above the door.   I backed myself into the opposite wall and crossed my arms.  Her arms were crossed too.  I wondered if she was cold in just a t-shirt and jeans.   She looked too distracted to care, if she was.

“Not playing anything,” I said, staring at the tattoos winding her forearms.  “Date didn’t work out so I came looking for you.”

“All the way out here, huh?”

“So?”

“So?  Since when do you do that?”

“Since now I guess.  Jesus, George, I didn’t think it’d be a problem!” 

I was probably being an ass, because she knew something more was happening and I was being evasive.   But in my defense, she was also being an ass and yelling to prove it. 

Her arms were still crossed, and her brow was furrowed, and she paced in a little circle before coming to a stop in front of me. 

In the quiet between us, I could hear the stifled voices and music from the bar.   I could hear where there must have been a nearby parking lot, and the rev of a motorbike.  It was too late to catch a bus back. 

“The fuck are you doing, kid?” she asked when I stepped towards her. 

“You’re not that old, tough guy,” I said, batting her defensive hands out of my face.   She grabbed at my shoulders but didn’t shove me away. 

“What are you playing at?” she asked again. 

“I don’t play games like that,” I said, “I don’t know how to play like that if I wanted to.” 

“I know,” George said, then her hand was in my hair.  She ruffled it affectionately.  “You’re a good kid.  You should be out with your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” I said, then added lower, “I don’t want a girl like that.” 

“You want a fella?” Her voice went gritty but she tried teasing.  “Jesus, you’re at the wrong club.  You wanna try the east side.”

“Don’t be an ass.  You know what I mean.” 

“You’re nothing but trouble, kid.  Have been from the start.”   She let me go and turned around.  She made no further move but I thought she might leave, so I grabbed at her roughly. 

I quickly found my back on the wall and her hand on the neck of my shirt.   Her other hand was flat to the wall beside my head.   She glared down at me. 

“No more games,” she said. 

No more games, I figured, and was wrapped up in adrenaline so I lowered myself.

She yanked me up by my t-shirt. 

“What the hell,” she said.  “What did I just say?”

“I already told you I’m not playing,” I said, trying to shove her hand off and failing.  There was no wrestling George.   There was no moving George.   That resilience was part of why I liked George.  

But I liked the other parts of her too.  The messy parts some people thought might ruin the illusion of true butchness, but that I knew made her a real butch.   Like the part I knew was tucked safe and sound right under that steel.  It was soft as jelly and meticulously shielded. 

But I knew it like I knew my own.   And I wasn’t so good at shielding mine yet, so George sometimes helped, and I always repaid the favour when she needed that hand too.   Like back when she lost her longest job after years of putting in hours.  She should have been promoted with those credentials but the new big boss didn’t take to her character much.  We passed the night in chairs outside my camper, watching the sunset, then when she got kinda mopey we went inside and she sat on the floor while I sat on the bed and I kept her head in my lap until she was more dozy than blue.

She was my friend.  And my guide.   In that moment, I thought about all her sly comments about butch daddies, and all the playful times she called me her boi.   That was exactly how it was and it wasn’t even a joke.

I stared into her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked.  At least she knew I wasn’t playing.

Even though it made that blush break out all over me, I still sputtered out, “I wanna blow you.” 

Because that was all that was left, wasn’t it?  We had all the tender and affection and shit.  It was just this.  The raw, primal stuff.   

And she laughed but not like I feared she might.   It was disbelieving, a short chortle, and her hand didn’t leave my throat. 

“The hell, kid,” she said, but not as firmly.

I grabbed her belt and tugged her hips towards mine.   They came easy and her eyelids got heavy.  Her head tipped.  The hand near my head moved closer and she shifted her weight. 

“I said…”  I couldn’t say it twice, especially now that she was looking at me like that and my blush was moving places I didn’t know heat could go.   So I licked my lips and slid my hand down to cup the hefty weight of the hard packer in her levis.  “I said I want this,” I replied. 

“Is that what you want,” she said, and the hand at my throat dropped down to grab my wrist.   She didn’t pull my hand closer but neither did she shove me away.   “They’ve got a name for butches like you, you know.” 

“And you,” I said boldly, no-nonsense, like she taught me. 

She laughed again, still disbelieving my audacity. 

“I’m not faggy like that,” she said, “Never have been.” 

“Maybe you would’ve been if it was me sucking you off.”  I squeezed her through the jeans and her hand jerked over mine.  

“You wanna try me, boi?” she asked.  “You wanna know what the butches in there would say if someone came out and saw you choking down my cock?” 

“Think they’d want a turn,” I said with more cheek than I knew I had, starting to slide down the wall again.  “Would you let them?”

She laughed, but it went quiet when my hands reached her belt.

“No,” she said, kinda softly, and I got on my knees and looked up between her legs.  

She kept that one hand on the wall and the other went into my hair.   She gathered the short fluff tight in a fist, her whole body gone hard while I opened her belt and unzipped her.   She kept her butch cock strapped in and tucked neatly in her black jocks.  I tugged it out and almost balked at the size – I guess George had a thing for the monsters – and it made me aware of the one I had pressing down on my clit that very second. 

“Fuck,” George said, in a half-whisper she’d never used with me.  She tipped my head back so she could watch the head of her cock enter my mouth.   I sucked it a little to get it wet, then she pulled back and I stuck out my tongue.   She inched closer so I could lick her all the way up, running my tongue along the thick shaft until my nose was against her crotch, then back down again. 

“Jesus,” she gasped when I sucked the first couple inches back into my mouth.  “Who taught you to suck cock?” 

I looked up at her kinda sarcastically – because did she expect me to answer right now?   She grinned down at me and moved her hips.   Inch after inch slid past my lips and down and –

“Christ!” she said, kinda loud, “Don’t you have a fucking gag reflex?”

I made a confused noise around her while she bobbed shallowly into my throat and we both groaned.  My eyes prickled and when she pulled back I sucked in a deep shaky breath.  But I didn’t choke so she went right back in.

“Fuck,” she said, and grabbed my head with both hands.  “Fuck, fuck, you filthy boi.  I should fuck your fucking throat raw for not telling me.” 

God, I felt like I was on fire, gasping around her cock and sucking and looking up at her on my sore knees.   I grabbed the weight between my legs and held it hard to my clit, my other hand gripping her hip while she face-fucked me.  

“Jesus, filthy little fag, swallow my cock, that’s it – that’s my boi.  God, you like my cock, don’t you?   Look at you rubbing your boi-dick through your jeans, Jesus, that’s hot - ”

I moaned and it wasn’t even fake, sucking in another gasping breath when she slipped out before plunging back in.  I swallowed her down while she grunted and groaned, her hips getting erratic.  She yanked my head back again and looked in my eyes, swearing so much the devil would have covered his ears to hear it.   With a final shove she came, the way I did when I ground my strap-on against my cunt to masturbate.  A shudder worked through her solid frame, her fingers raking over my scalp. 

I groaned low when she pulled out of my mouth, a long string of spit connecting us.   I licked my lips then wiped my mouth across the back of my hand, staring up at her. 

She was already staring at me, her chest heaving, her eyes a little wide.   Her grip on my hair slackened.   Then she grabbed my biceps and tugged, lifting me to my feet.   I went up on shaky legs, my knees knocking, my eyes still locked on hers. 

“Jesus, kid,” she said, and touched where my cheeks must have been flaming red after all that.   Her hand slipped over my cheek and down to my lips.  They were rubbed raw.   They must have looked pink and swollen. 

“Fuck,” she said, “You’re nothing but trouble.  Always have been.” 

She kissed me before I could reply.  A long, hot kiss that melted me and turned my gooey insides out.  I gasped against her lips and she swallowed my breath, chasing my reddened lips, making them ache.  She cupped my face and moved my head where she wanted, and I closed my eyes and let her.  I kissed back until I was flat against the wall and our hips were together.   Her strap was still out and she ground against where I was packed away.   I was so sensitive there.  That bulge felt like it was real, connected right to my throbbing clit, and I moaned in her mouth. 

Her hands left my face and flattened on the wall.   She exhaled and our kiss broke, her temple against mine. 

“Where’d you park?” she asked. 

“I, uh…”  My voice was a croak and I had to clear my throat.  Oh, that was gonna be hell tomorrow.  Worth it anyway.   “I didn’t.  I took the bus.”

“You took the - ” That voice was my George again.  She leaned back to glare at me.  “What the fuck?  You took the bus out here?”

“My car broke down - “

“God, you’re such a nuisance.”  She said it so affectionately, I couldn’t believe her.  That and she followed it with a loving head-butt.

“I’m gonna take you home,” she said in a no-nonsense voice.   She looked around the alley to see if anyone had seen us.  Though I doubt she would have stopped with her dick halfway down my throat.  There was no one there anyway.   She tucked herself away and zipped up again. 

“Bike,” she said, “This way.”

Technically, she didn’t clarify if she was taking me home or _taking me home_.   I didn’t ask.  

I followed her around the building to a small parking lot packed full of bikes and a few work trucks.  She told me to get on the bike while she went inside to get her stuff. 

I perched on the ‘bitch seat’.  That probably wasn’t the real name but George said that the last time she gave me a ride somewhere.   That I was her bitch if I sat back there. 

She didn’t make the same joke tonight, though she gave me a long look while pulling on her own leather jacket. 

“Were you with friends?”  Was the stupid question I blurted, instead of the ones I should have been asking. 

She blinked in a quiet reply, then shook her head.

“Was just having a drink,” she said. 

“Not much of a night out,” I replied.

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” she said, and swung onto the bike so her back was to me.  “Was just supposed to be a drink and some distraction.” 

“Distraction?  From what?” 

She revved up the engine and didn’t answer.  I slid forward so my legs bracketed her hips, but left space so my bulge wouldn’t be shoved into her backside.   But then she reached back and tugged my knee so I slid forward, pressing against her.   My arms went loosely around her middle. 

“Try not to soak my seat,” she said, and I gave her a head-butt of my own.

“Shuddup,” I said. “I’m not one of your little girls.” 

“Hm, guess not,” she said, wriggling in her seat.  I knew she could feel my hard packer.  “In that case, just try not to stab me.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes.  Her shoulders shook with a laugh.   Then the motorcycle drowned us out and we were pulling out of the lot.   We left the bar and the alley behind us and went onto the quiet city street. 

I was gonna be tough about it, but couldn’t help leaning into her.   It was a quiet night and we had the road to ourselves, especially when we got out of the city and onto the desert road to the campgrounds.  Every long curve and slow meander had me leaning with her, falling into the rhythm of the bike and the road and the warm wind.  

We didn’t talk the whole ride.  We drove slow.  It was the kind of blue summer night that just wouldn’t go dark.   The sky would get black all at once for a slow breath then the sun would rise and that was that.  

We drove through the gloaming until we reached the cluster of campers.   We went the long way ‘round to reach mine, faraway enough for privacy, and she pulled in beside it. 

“We’ll have to get your car in the morning,” she said, standing to hold the bike steady while I dismounted.  

I separated from her slowly, dragging my hands away.  I stepped off the bike. 

“Sounds right,” I said.   I walked backwards, maintaining eye contact.   She stared at me but said nothing.   She was gonna make me ask.   “Are you coming?”

She braked the bike and stepped off.   I finally turned and went up the steps.   I felt her weight on the step below while I fished out my key and let us in. 

How such a familiar space felt like alien territory, I could never say.  My heart was thudding into my ribs like it was trying to break them, and I could hear myself breathing, and for a moment I forgot where I kept my boots.  

George came in behind me.  Somehow she remembered the things I didn’t.  Her head ducked, she tugged on a light string to give us some rosy lamplight.   Then she took off her jacket and kicked her boots into the appropriate spot. 

I bent over to untie mine.  I took my time, thinking about how I stood here hiding my blush just a few hours ago.   And how I was here again, still hiding my blush, and for similar but different reasons. 

I stood straight and kicked my shoes away, then the light went out again.  Before I could fully turn, George was behind me, her hands on my hips tugging me close.   Seeing her probably didn’t matter because it was dark anyway, except where the curtains were pulled back over my bed.   I looked in that direction, staring at the breach of silver light, feeling hard and heavy between my legs and swallowing thickly. 

“You tell me what you don’t want,” she said, speaking low, almost a whisper.  “And I’ll take everything else.”

I nodded.  I wanted her take everything I had, and everything I didn’t know could be given. .  

It was no fight getting me out of my jacket, or lifting my arms when she untucked my shirt to lift it over my head.   My tits weren’t all that big to start with so I just kept them down with a nondescript workout bra.  She palmed at me through that for a second.  

Her hands roughly groping me while she breathed over my neck made me sweat and throb. 

“ _Ugh_ \- ” Was the undignified noise that escaped me when she tugged my sports bra up and off.   She forced my arms back up when I dropped them to my sides.   They went over her shoulders while she continued to paw at me, tugging my nipples until I was squirming. 

“You’re trouble to me, boi, just trouble,” she said, leading me to the light and the bed.   I stumbled along with her, tried to face her, but she turned me over and threw me face down on the bed.   She sat beside me and tugged me up so my ass curved nicely over the edge.  

“Not trouble,” I murmured, looking back at her, and yelping like a startled pup when she smacked my ass. 

And it was one hell of a smack.  Even though my boxers and jeans, it stung.  

“Jesus, what’s that for?” I asked.  I had to say something, but I didn’t want to say stop, because I didn’t dislike it.   But it did come out of nowhere.

She pat my ass, rubbed it a bit. 

“You’ve been shaking this ass at me since we met,” she said. “Before you even knew you wanted it.” 

She smacked me again.  I jerked forward.   My blush got hotter.  If she rolled me over, she’d see it all down my chest and belly. 

“Is that right, boi?” she asked.  “You’ve been wanting a big butch cock in this hot little ass?”

“Yes, Daddy,” flew right past my lips before I thought about it.   I promptly buried my face in the bedsheets.

She laughed and turned my head.  I couldn’t look at her. 

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she said.   She reached under me and undid my belt.   With the same confidence as earlier, she yanked down my jeans, then rubbed my ass through my boxers.   I tried not to moan or hum, and closed my eyes and bit my lip when she smacked me again.  “Don’t worry, baby boi.  Daddy’s gonna get this ass all fired up - ”  Another smack.  “And give you exactly what your slutty little boi-holes need.” 

She yanked down my boxers, leaving me in my strap with my clothes gathered at my knees.  

She swore under her breath, running her hand almost reverently down my backside.   She followed the dip of my spine, then over the curve of my ass, down to my thighs, and back again. 

“Oh, fuck, baby boi,” she said, squeezing my ass before slapping it _hard_.  “The ways I’ve thought about ruining this perfect ass…”  She delivered a few blows in succession and soothed me when I whimpered and lifted my head.   “Shh, shh.  You’re just a little pink.  I’ve waited this long, I want this ass cherry red before I take it.”  

My whimpering got longer and higher pitched, but I still didn’t want her to stop.  But I squirmed beneath her ruthless hand, yelping at a few sharper blows and trying to breathe steadily. 

Both her hands fell to my ass, tugging to expose my hole before she smacked me again then raked her fingers from thigh to shoulder.  

“Where do you want it, huh?” she asked.  “Show me where you wanna get fucked.” 

Certain my ass was the exact shade she wanted, I pushed myself up to reach and swipe at the mouth of my cunt.  My fingers came away soaked.   When I looked into her face and saw the raw hunger in her desirous glance, I clenched around nothing, and she probably knew it. 

“God, that’s gonna feel so good on my dick,” she said, rubbing my ass.  “Get on the bed.  Don’t you dare start jerking your cock till I tell you.” 

I scrambled to obey.  She helped me shove off my bottom clothes when I got tangled in them.   Then I was on the bed waiting while she got comfortable behind me.   I was on my hands and knees, not sure what instinct put me there, but she grabbed me and manhandled me onto my back.  

The first touch of my tender ass to the bed had me bucking, but she eased me back down. 

“You’ll be fine, you’re tough, aren’t you?” she asked.   I didn’t answer but settled onto the sheets.  After a second, the cool bedclothes did feel somewhat soothing on my warmed backside.  “That’s it.”  She grabbed my chin and made me look up at her.   My legs were bent and closed in front of me.  She placed her hands on my knees.  “I want you looking at me the first time you’ve got something in you,” she said, then spread my knees apart. 

I planted my feet on the bed.  Unsure what to do with my hands, I twisted them in the sheets and watched George lean down.   My hips jerked when she spat, probably to wet me more. 

I watched my own butch cock bob in front of me, untouched, reminding me of my swollen and throbbing clit. 

“Jesus,” George said, and I felt her thumb at my opening, tracing a shallow circle that made me clench around nothing again.   “You’re ready for it without my help, aren’t you?”  She looked up at me, those shallow circles growing a little firmer.  “You ever opened up down here, boi?” 

I shook my head, wrapping my hands under my knees to stop my legs from shaking.

“That’s right, hold yourself open,” she said, then slid her middle finger inside me.  “God, you sure about that?” she asked, and slid a second one in easy.  My hips rocked onto her fingers.  “Because you’re taking me real easy, boi.   Sure you haven’t been slutting around on me?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, sucking in deep breaths when she really started opening me up on her fingers.   “Just you.”

“Hm, just me?”  It made such a sloppy sound, her fingers pistoning in-and-out.  “So you don’t go opening your ass for just any butch?”

I shook my head again.  “No.  No, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, and I groaned as she stretched me around her fingers.  “You’re my good boi, aren’t you?   You just can’t help being a slut for it.”

I nodded and she laughed.   But that laughter simmered when her fingers slowed, and I could feel the long touch of her inside me.  I shuddered and my legs turned to jelly.  I dug my toes into the bedspread, my legs spread around her, and looked down at my butch.  She was gazing at me, watching me closely, while touching me as intimately as she could.  I let out a breath and threw back my head, turned my face to breathe into my pillows.  I grabbed the sheets beneath me.  And she gave such a sweet moan that I almost came at the sound of it – never mind where her fingertips reached.

“Feels good?” she asked.  I’m sure my reaction was answer enough.   I couldn’t formulate much more than an affirmative croak, especially when her other hand wrapped around the base of my strap. 

“George,” slipped past my lips, and my legs further spread.  I looked down as she slipped out of me.  I watched her wet fingers stroke up and down my cock, followed by a few wet kisses.   I almost ripped a hole in the bedsheets, twisting them under me. 

“That’s it,” she said, and kissed the base of it again, then a little higher.  “You’re gonna be good for me, huh?  No blowing your load before I tell you.” 

I just whimpered, making no promises, and she gave me a perfectly George grin before taking the head of my cock in her mouth and making sure to suck it nice and lewdly.   She kept one hand on my trembling thigh, and the other stroked where her mouth didn’t go – a lazy, sucking kiss before she popped free and knelt upright. 

“That’s my boi,” she said, so low it was hardly a whisper, exhaled on a breath. 

She knelt between my legs and tugged me sharply.  I gasped, my hand covering hers where it held my cock.   She was slow in her next movement.   Leaning over me, both her hands settled on either side of my head.  I stared up at her, my breath short, my cunt empty, my butch cock hard, and every part of me wanting her. 

She kissed me again – far more gently than I ever guessed George would kiss. 

I suppose out of everyone, I should have known best - that she would have this softness.  This was carefully shielded part of her.   It was sacred.  And I knew, but the tenderness of it still took me by surprise.  I felt safe and wrapped up under my hard butch who kissed me so softly I thought I might shatter like fragile glass.  And if it didn’t feel so good, it might have made me teary, but it wrapped around me in a promise of unconditional love and protection that I had never found elsewhere.   And I lifted my hands to her face, and I cupped her jaw, and I kissed her in return, nice and slow like we had no hurry in the world. 

I sucked on her tongue just a little – messy and wet, enough it got a laugh, and I smiled.  She pecked my lips then kissed my fingertips.   

“Hmm,” she said, and cupped my face.  Her thumb stroked my jaw and tugged at my bottom lip.  I’m sure it was still pink.  My mouth opened happily to kiss at her thumb when offered.  “You wanna suck my cock again, baby boi?” she asked, “Get me all wet and ready so I can slide right in and make that ass mine?”

Her lines were so smooth and practiced but her hand trembled where it stroked my thigh.  I held my hand over hers, there for a moment, then nodded.  She kissed my head then went on her knees, helping me onto mine in front of her.  She was still bigger, even while we both knelt on the bed, and undoing her belt was hard when she kept tugging my hair, scratching down my back, and squeezing my ass. 

“God, can’t wait to have this,” she said in my ear, and gave me a two-handed smack on the ass.   I groaned and leaned into her, then slipped down her body while tugging her cock free.  Her hand slipped into my hair as my lips went around her.  This time she wasted no time sliding right in.  “Fuck,” she said.

When I flicked my gaze up, I saw her looking – looking at the line of body where I was almost prostrate before her, then at my mouth where it swallowed her down. 

“No gag reflex,” she laughed a little, “Shit. Imagine thinking you were made for anything except sucking my dick.” 

I had to agree.

“C’mere,” she said after a long moment.  She kissed me when I was kneeling upright, a good hard kiss that felt like a demand.   Then, in the blink of an eye, she was settling herself on her back.  “Better take it slow, baby,” she said, with that cocky grin and a low scrape to her voice.  “Unless you wanna get split open on my cock.”

“Hmm,” I said, trying to be cocky too and probably failing thanks to my ever-present blush.  “Probably what you want.”

She laughed, but helped me swing over her nonetheless.  I sat on her thighs.  Her cock sat between my legs, leaning against my belly.  It looked obscenely large against me.

“Jesus,” she said, “That’s hot.”

I blushed again, then licked my hand before stroking her cock.   If my heart wasn’t going a mile a minute, my brain running to catch up, I might have made some more smart ass remarks.  As it was, all I mustered was an embarrassing squeak as I lifted myself so the head of her cock prodded at my swollen wet cunt.

“That’s it,” she said, squeezing my thighs when they shook, the scarce tip of her cock already stretching me enough I paused.  “God, you look so good,” she said, “Come on, baby boi, take my cock, Daddy wants to fill ya up.”

Fuck, if that wasn’t encouraging, nothing would be.  So I sunk down further on her cock.  On one more exhale, I took the rest.   Trembling, I sat there, clenching around her and getting used to the feeling.

“Fuck,” squeaked out of me.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Like this,” she said, and held my hips, and rocked me back and forth rather than up and down.  “Feel it, baby, then I’ll let you fuck yourself on it.”  My hand went to my strap instinctively, tugging at my cock between us, and her eyes followed the motion.  She nodded, and took in a deep breath, and helped me move so my rock hard clit felt every stroke to match my hand –

“George,” I said – because between that and where she was rubbing up inside me – “George, _George_ —”

“Yeah, baby,” her voice went gritty, “Come on my cock, just like that, then I’ll fuck you nice and good.” 

So close, so close, so close – I lifted and lowered myself just a little – not minding how big she was and how it felt because I was so close, so close _so close_ so close–

I’m not even sure what I shouted when I came – a slur of _daddy_ , of _please_ and _yes_ and _god_ and _fuck_ , and _George, George, George._  

Then that shout was just a whimper but my hips kept rocking. I fell against her so my chest was against hers, my cock pressed between us.  She kissed my face and held my hips and began slowly fucking me, bit my bit moving her cock in and out, in and out...  

I wrapped my arms around her neck and clung tight, moaning like I was putting on a show or something.  

“Fuck, baby, yeah, that feel good?” she asked.  I didn’t answer but didn’t have to.  The easy wet slide was obvious enough, as was my moaning, and my fingers digging into her shoulder. 

“More,” was what I finally managed after a few long, agonizingly slow thrusts.  “More.  Daddy, fuck me.”  I whispered it in her ear and held her tight.  “Yours.”  

“Goddamnit,” she groaned, and sat up in a flash.   In another moment I was on my back again, and she was sliding carefully out of me.  She eyed my cock and I understood, and I didn’t mind – though I knew she’d leave it up to me regardless.   I took it out of the strap and she helped me unclip everything.  Then we tossed it aside. 

I didn’t expect her to, but she met me halfway, and I watched with bated breath when she tugged her shirt up and off.  I’d caught a glimpse of her bare back once, when she ambled out of the shower at her place and crossed into the bedroom.  George was younger than she acted, and kept herself in good shape always, so the handsome ripple of muscle even then caught my attention and stayed in my mind.  But that was it.

She tugged it all off though.  Her breasts were a little bigger than mine but a little flatter and longer from always being pushed down.  Tattoos covered a good breadth of skin, as did a few scars from old adventures.   But our only light was that silver river of moonlight, cutting through the blue dark of my little room, so I couldn’t make out the details. 

It didn’t matter at that moment.  What mattered was how she was leaning down, what mattered were her lips moving slowly across my chest, giving me time to react and push her away.  I didn’t, and tugged her closer, so she licked over a nipple then sucked at it meanly, and plucked at the other one, then dipped her head, down, down.  A shiver wracked my whole form when she licked at me, around where I was empty, and then a little on my sensitive clit.   I bucked, and she took that as indication.  She licked her palm and wrapped it around her dick, got herself wet, then nudged at me.

“Wanna get fucked, do you?” she asked, and tugged me sharply again.  She filled me in one smooth stroke and the sound I made was one of pleasure, and no doubt desperate.   This time she rocked her hips and I took it.  She was careful but smooth.   She made it look so easy, even while I felt like what we joked – split open, dripping, and a slutty wet mess of a boi.  

I reached up behind me to hold the headboard, my knees bending around her hips.  She slid her belt off with a quick crack and smirked when I gasped.

“Maybe another night,” she said, and tossed it aside.  She planted her hands on either side of me and –

“Fuck! _George_!”  I gripped the headboard hard and squeezed my legs around her. 

Because my butch fucked me and she fucked me _hard_.   And we both knew I’d probably feel it in the morning, but neither of us cared right then.  

Besides, I wanted to feel it in the morning.  I wanted to feel her always. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said.  I’m sure I said a lot of things with it. Things even more obscene than that.  At one moment I managed a slurred, “yours, yours, yours.”

George didn’t speak, but she breathed hard and grunted.  Sometimes she went slow before really hammering her hips.   I think she just liked it when I said stupid, excited things – especially when that low thud started to really build inside me, and I could hardly think straight with how hard I came.  Crying out and clawing at the headboard before slumping down. 

George slowed the cant of her hips.   I honestly felt a little dizzy.  I definitely wouldn’t be able to stand without flopping back over.   But the endorphins came flooding in so I was little giggly if not woozy.  

But when George tried to pull away, I locked my legs around her hips and held her inside me. 

“Stay,” I croaked.  My arms lowered to my sides and I beckoned with my fingers.  “Stay.”

George leaned in and she did so quickly.  So quick, in fact, I couldn’t see her expression.  She buried her face in my neck and wrapped her arms around me.   I put mine around her shoulders and held her against me, and inside me, and around me.  We were completely tangled together and lay there for a long while. 

I knew what kind of little touches always made me feel good, so I touched her like that.   Stroked her hair, scratched over her shoulders and down her back.   I could feel her shiver under the easy touch.  She held me a little tighter.  

“Should probably clean you up, kid,” she said after a few quiet moments, and lifted her head.   She looked tired but not worn out, not beat down, just going soft with wanting rest.  I scratched behind her ear. 

“Can’t get up, tough guy,” I said, and let my legs fall limp.  “You fucked the hell outta me.”

She laughed and disentangled herself, and I let her go.   God, I was gonna be so sore tomorrow.  I could feel it as she slid out of me, but I didn’t mind.  Even if I still felt a little dizzy when I lifted my head and shifted over.  

“You’re just a boi,” she teased, and winked, “You got plenty of hell in you still.”

“If you say so,” I played along, grinning too.  “Wait,” I said, when she tried to slide away completely.  I knew I was a little sticky and our dicks definitely needed a good wipe.  I could see hers glistening and so wet, it made it look like she came all inside me, which I decided not to voice because it might’ve got us going again and my cunt had already had quite a night. 

“Just a little longer,” I said, and offered an open arm.   “I won’t look,” I said, when she looked down at her dick.  Definitely not something to tuck away in clothes, not in that state.  I kept my promise and closed my eyes, shifting deeply into my mattress.  I heard her thumping around a little, something hitting the ground with everything else we tossed aside.  Then she was zipped up and laying beside me.  I rolled into her arms again.   

“Gonna get my pants filthy,” she said, but let me wrap myself around her anyway. 

“Your fault,” I said, “So you can wash everything tomorrow.” 

She laughed at that, but also got nice and loose in my arms.  Mentioning tomorrow alleviated some lingering final burden, because her hard shoulders went lax when she wrapped her arms around me. 

“You’re trouble, kid,” she said. 

This time I was the one with my face in her neck.  “Not that old and wise, tough guy,” I murmured.

She ignored that and said, with great affection, “You’re gonna fall asleep.”  She stroked my hair.    

“Mhmm…” was my reply, and I don’t remember much after that because George was right – I fell asleep in her arms.   And she must have cleaned me up because I didn’t wake up a sticky mess. 

I did roll over sometime in the early blue morning to find her laying almost flat on her front.  She was fast asleep, and looked a hell of a lot younger than ever. Her brow was soft and her lips parted.  I never really asked but honestly, I don’t think she was much older than me.

I traced my fingers over her tattoos, over her shoulders, hovering over a thin scar that ran down her back and was carefully concealed in some colourful ink. 

“Hmmph?” was the sound she made.  It sounded like a question but she was mostly sleeping. 

“Just butch stuff,” I murmured, and she didn’t answer but kept sleeping.   And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wipe away a sniffle that I didn’t even understand.  

But I shuffled under the covers and covered her up too, and I fell asleep before the endless blue outside hit that crack of perfect dark before breaking into summer sunlight. 

 

 

 


End file.
